


Like a Moth to the Flame

by pokemongarnet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:07:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokemongarnet/pseuds/pokemongarnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, I was never much one for words. I suppose they came to me in fleeting whisps, like a moth darts about a flame in unsure advances before it settles upon its resolve to observe this interesting new world it has stumbled upon, before it meets its untimely end in the lascivious tendrils of the inviting flame. That analogy is more accurate than I had first thought, and maybe one day I'll remember it at the right time, in the right place.</p>
<p>In which Dirk Strider keeps a diary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Moth to the Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Why did you even read this. Well, okay.
> 
> This is a preface, it's just one entry. This is post-game, and even though they beat the Condesce, this has left Jane in power in full on crocker-tier mode. This will end up a culmination of Dirk's self-loathing and his and Roxy's mission to save the world. Warning: Characters WILL be twisted, bent six ways from sunday, and revamped if only for the sole reason that my grip on Hussie's portrayal of emotionally damaged teens is not a strong one.

Honestly, I was never much one for words. I suppose they came to me in fleeting whisps, like a moth darts about a flame in unsure advances before it settles upon its resolve to observe this interesting new world it has stumbled upon, before it meets its untimely end in the lascivious tendrils of the inviting flame. That analogy is more accurate than I had first thought, and maybe one day I'll remember it at the right time, in the right place.

That place won't be here, and that time won't be today. It might not be ever. The time of this unlikely event may be stranded out in space just as I am, just as we are, for all eternity. Do you ever wonder if perhaps this world wasn't meant for us? If, and if this is true then I can only laugh in misery, all our work has been in vain? Born to die, I accepted my fate years ago with my brother's death in a valiant attempt of what some might call a revolution. He tried to snuff out this moth's flame that only burned brighter with his death, and now I find myself drawing closer to that flame. 

It would be so easy to give in. To let go. Let her win, let her take over and place her race in supreme control and yet I can't. The body is strong and the soul is weary. I need to keep fighting. I need to keep fighting for Roxy, for Jane, for all the hundreds of thousands of people who never once asked to be annihilated, decimated, in fractions of a worthless second because of some useless game that in the end was a part of her ploy. We saw it coming. Roxy and I. And yet, we didn't let ourselves take that final step and be heroes from the start. How much longer will we let people speak for us? How much longer can we follow this grand plan of fuck-all that leads to a vast.... something-or-other?

It's been three years since the game ended. Six years since we tumbled out of that cataclysmic frying pan, and into this torturous fire. God, whatever God there is, help us now. The new Jane isn't Jane, Roxy isn't Roxy, and I am not myself. Wherever Jake is, he can't be him. I've not seen him since we escaped one hellhole in exchange for its father. I've accepted the fact that I may never. And yet, my heart trudges on and I suppose that's the only reason I'm bothering to put this on paper. 

Prince of Heart. Hmph. I now know how it feels to be Prince of desolation.

-Dirk


End file.
